


Kusozu

by paburke



Series: Kintsugi [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Marriage of Convenience, Padmé's Funeral, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 15:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paburke/pseuds/paburke
Summary: All of Naboo weeps, but for a select few, tears do not blind them.





	Kusozu

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrstater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrstater/gifts).



-owk->bt-

 “Do you want to keep busy during Padmé’s funeral or watch it, my lady.”

Sabé stared at him, “… watch it?”  She was so stunned at the option that she glossed over the fact Ben had retreated to formalities.  Again.

“Sidious is transmitting the holo of the funeral of the Empire’s staunchest supporter to all corners of the galaxy.  One that was killed by the Jedi in defiance of the Empire’s birth.”

Sabé was completely horrified and furious on Padmé’s behalf.  “How dare he!  She went into mourning when Palpatine dissolved the Republic.  Amidst everything else going on, she sent me a message asking for us to be available, she was going to fight him…” Sabé trailed off in realization.  “He was never going to let her live, was he?  He couldn’t.”

“The number of nearly successful assassinations dropped when she became pregnant.  She was a very effective tool with which Sidious manipulated Anakin, but he could never afford to have her whispering in his ear after his Fall, though a child? That would have been useful.”

Sabé burned in agony as she remembered Cordé and the others that had died in the attempts.  To know that Palpatine had planned for her sister to die multiple times… To know that worse would have been Luke and Leia’s future…

“The funeral will begin in four hours.  The comm in the cockpit has been adapted to receive it,” Ben told her.  When had he learned of all this?  And reconfigured the comm?

Sabé had to watch the funeral.  Had to be sure that the other handmaidens covered for her absence.  Had to see Palpatine tarnish the memory.  Had to be united with others on Naboo in grief.

Had to say a final farewell to her Queen.

-owk->bt-

Meko woke to his wife whispering, “Fe, what’s going on?”

“We’ll tell you later, but your Queen needs your service.”

“My Queen has my service,” Saché answered.  Meko was careful not to give any indication that he was awake.  He hated the rare intrigue the handmaidens dragged his wife into more than a decade after she had married him.  How could there be any more secrets with Amidala dead?  Her funeral was the day after tomorrow.

“Tomorrow, Sabé is going to comm you and tell you that you are not needed in the procession.”

Meko forced himself not to gasp at the slight to his wife, but wonderful level-headed Saché never paused.  “What do you need me to do during the funeral?”

“We need you to _be_ Sabé.”

Even Saché paused.  “Is Padmé really dead?” she asked.

“Yes,” Fe poured a life’s worth of mourning into the word.

“Oh.  I will serve my Queen.”

Fe shifted, probably to kiss Saché on the forehead.  “The swoop bike will be in the normal place.”  And then Fe exited their bedroom as soundlessly as she had arrived.  Meko was left staring at the bedroom wall in the dark.  After a bit of time, Saché left their bed for the kitchen and a cup of tea.

Like she had every other morning since hearing of Senator Amidala’s death.

-owk->bt-

The next morning Meko’s mother stopped in under the pretense of delivering a plate of sweets for their son Beto, but in reality to glean Royal gossip from Saché.  Meko didn’t know why she bothered, Saché had never revealed secrets in her life, and Meko’s mother wasn’t as clever as his wife.  This time, however, she was there as Saché excused herself to take a holo-comm from ‘Sabé.’  Meko and his mother couldn’t hear everything but could hear enough.  He was suspicious at the timing but saw no harm in Saché using his mother’s vice like this.  Everyone in town would know that Saché would not be part of the procession by mid-meal, and that ‘Sabé’ had told her.

Saché returned to the main room with watery eyes and dry cheeks.  The suppressed tears could have been truth.

“Everything alright, dear,” Meko’s mother asked.

Saché stared at her, more expressionless than normal.  “Eventually.”

When no more words were forthcoming, Mother leaned forward.  “Dear, we couldn’t help to hear some of your conversation.  It’s a horrible slight your… old acquaintances are giving you.”

“I… was the first one to leave service,” Saché weakly defended the other handmaidens.  “I never did serve her as Senator.”

“But some of the current ones have only been there for months,” Mother argued.  “You were there for the worst of it and served faithfully during the Blockade.”

Saché inclined her head and neither agreed nor disagreed.

“You can join us as we watch the procession,” Mother offered, knowing that others would see Saché at her side and want to ask why.

“Thank you, but no,” refused Saché.  “I don’t want anyone to know that there is a schism.  I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.  I don’t want anyone distracted from the honor due Senator Amidala.  I will… I will mourn alone.”  Saché placed a hand on Meko’s shoulder.  “Can you keep Beto today?”

Meko patted her hand.  “Of course.  And tomorrow as well.”

“Thank you.”  Saché walked out of the house.

“Where is she going,” Mother demanded. 

“The lake, most likely.  You will keep my wife’s confidence, won’t you, Mother?”

“Of course.”

Meko could probably use a stopwatch to measure the amount of time until the whole village knew.

-owk->bt-

Saché slid into bed long after Meko had retired for the night.  He rolled over to take her in his arms.  His nose nestled behind her ear.  He could not smell make-up (the handmaidens would never miss that), but the subtle scent of the make-up remover.

Saché was gone before Meko woke the next morning.

-owk->bt-

Like the rest of Naboo, the fact that Senator Amidala had been pregnant when she was killed was a complete surprise to Meko.  Meko’s mother whispered furiously with her friends, speculating on who the father had been and how sad that the child was never born.  “Those poor Naberries,”she mournfully empathized.

Forbé, Mother’s most bitter friend, hissed that she bet the Emperor was unhappy that the child had died.  “Imagine what new powers he could grasp for himself with that PR.”  Forbé’s entire family had been killed in the Invasion of Naboo and the fact that the Trade Federation had never been held responsible despite a Nubian Chancellor rankled her.

Meko remained silent.  He watched the graceful, slow step of interweaving handmaidens and didn’t try to identify his wife from among the uniformly painted faces.  The clues fell into place.

Amidala was definitely dead.  The handmaidens wouldn’t lie to Saché about that.

Saché was needed to stand in for Amidala’s main decoy.

There was a secret to keep.  One important enough that they would propagate rumors of division among the handmaidens as a diversion.

There was a baby who was supposed to be dead.  A baby that would have been very useful to powerful people alive.

Meko was sure it was off-planet in Sabé’s secret custody.  The handmaidens were determined to keep it that way.  Meko would tell no one otherwise.

-owk->bt-

“Senator Amidala was pregnant when she died,” Mother announced to Saché the second she walked into the house.

“She was?” Saché’s shocked expression could have won awards for its believability.  The cuffs of her pants were damp from wading in the lake.  She had left sandy shoes outside the door.  Meko was so glad Saché had promised never to lie to him about non-Royal secrets.

-owk->bt-

Jobal Naberrie slipped in the mortuary door.  The handmaidens were dithering around the body of her daughter, ensuring every curl, every petal, every fold of fabric was perfect.  They had handled the entirety of the funeral arrangements, leaving the family to accept the mountains of condolences with the Queen.  Now Jobal would say good-bye to her daughter.

The handmaidens respectfully stepped back to let her through.  Part of Jobal was surprised they were still using the face-paint and was impressed that none of them had cried and ruined the designs.  Jobal touched her daughter’s cold forehead, her hands folded over her gravid stomach.  Over the grandchild Jobal would never meet.

Jobal sighed.  “Sabé?”

“Yes, Lady Naberrie,” a handmaiden _not_ Sabé answered.

Jobal double-checked the body.  That was definitely Padmé and not Sabé, so why was Padmé’s best friend not leading the handmaidens.  Probably for the same reason that the handmaidens were not crying and were wearing face paint: they were still on mission.  They were sure they were under surveillance.

Why?

_Why?_

What had her daughter gotten involved in?

What had really killed her daughter?  It wasn’t the Jedi, Padmé had always been a good judge of character and had sung their praises.

What was so important that the handmaidens would forego mourning their Queen?

The reason would be something more important to Padmé than herself.  Padmé put Naboo and the Republic before herself, but the handmaidens wouldn’t need to hide their number in that case.  It had to be personal.  It had to be…

“The child?” she asked.

“Dead,” answered the imposter.  Jobal was sure the imposter was Saché, one of the very few handmaidens that had retired from politics to live permanently on Naboo.  A word spoken under surveillance would be a lie, but the handmaidens had let the imposter speak it.  A lie to lead Jobal to the truth and show her how important it was that the truth remain hidden.

She was going to have words with Saché as soon as it was possible.

-owk->bt-

Sabé hadn’t even known she was crying, watching the holo transmission of the funeral procession, until Yala wiped her tears away.  Mara was trying to climb into her lap, and from there helped Yala.  The two girls sat on Sabé’s lap and the handmaiden knew they were trying to comfort her using the Force.  The little ones couldn’t stop the grief, but their attempt lightened the black cloud engulfing the galaxy.

-owk->bt-

**Author's Note:**

> Kusozu- Japanese watercolor paintings that graphically depict human decomposition, which were popular between the 13th and 19th centuries. Now considered an early study of human decay and taphonomy. Personally, I have believed that watercolors best represent grief; the lack of details as if the viewer is looking at the scene through tears.


End file.
